


Hunter and the Wolf

by Inane_Rational



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prehistoric, Historical Inaccuracy, M/M, Petopher Appreciation Week 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 11:34:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14135244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inane_Rational/pseuds/Inane_Rational
Summary: Chris meets Peter on a hunting trip.  Pre-historic caveman AU.  For Petopher week 2018.





	Hunter and the Wolf

**Author's Note:**

> Decided to write this a few days before Petopher week started. Posting it before April 1st deadline due to time and internet limitations. Quick and dirty writing and editing.

Chris tightened his hold on the spear as the shrub-ox continued to graze without any awareness of his presence. He imagined the spear was indented with the imprints of his hand, despite knowing this wasn’t the spear he used for practice. It had been hours since his rite of passage had begun and this ox was the only animal he had come across. He needed his aim to fly with precision, because he didn’t want the creature to get away, not if he didn’t want to return empty-handed.

Chris could hear his father’s criticism on the amount of time it took for him to bring back a tribute on his passage to manhood. Nonetheless, he couldn’t help but try to win his father’s pride.

Chris readied his stance, preparing to strike, when there was a rustle in the bush behind him. Chris whirled around, pointing his spear at the threat and found himself faced with a boy.

The boy looked to be a few years younger than him. Chris noticed the distinctive design of the boy’s fur loincloth. The attire was larger than average to make space for the clan markings etched onto the edges, where the fur had been scrapped off. The intersecting oblong shaped signified the boy to be a member of the Hale clan.

The Hales were an enemy clan to the Argent, but the boy wasn’t attacking. Instead, the Hale gestured for Chris to be silent and pointed to something on his right.

Chris couldn’t see anything. He turned to tell the boy off when the oxen’s cry of pain and the growl of a Saber-tooth stilled him. The predator took down the oxen with ease. He’s seen the destruction of those teeth and claws on human flesh.

He turned back to the Hale who was disappearing in the brush. Chris followed, not wanting the Saber-tooth to turn his attention on him.

Chris continued his hunt with a silent stalker following him around. “Are you playing a game?” Chris asked, under his breath. He’s sure the Hale was close enough to hear.

There’s a giggle to his right. The laughter was mischievous, like pulling pranks on other kids in the clan with his little sister. Chris can still remember his mother’s smile, despite the scolding they had received. “My name is Chris, of the Argent clan.”

“Obviously,” the boy said, coming out of his hiding spot.

Chris huffed. That’s what he got for trying to be friendly.

“Peter,” the boy said, before Chris can come up with a snide reply. Then the Hale promptly ran off and Chris had to quicken his pace in order to follow behind.

“What clan?”

“You obviously already know,” Peter said, tugging at the markings on his loincloth.

“Are the members of the Hale clan always this rude?”

“Says an Argent about to be eaten by a Saber-tooth. How has your clan survived?”

A fervent teaching of the Argent clan was respect. A kid like Peter would be getting the blunt-end of a spear for the insolence he’s being given.

Peter was heading to something up ahead. Chris followed.

 

He hated his father. Chris couldn’t pinpoint an exact moment where the natural compassion he should have felt cracked and peeled away. His father had always been hard to get along with, because Gerard Argent never needed someone else to like him. He demanded compliance.

So the hunts are the best time to get away, now that his father took over as Chief of the clan. Chris didn’t want to admit his suspicion about the death of his mother and Gerard’s claims against the previous Chief.

He kept his head down and went hunting. When it was summer and the clan travelled to the forest and plains named Beacon Hills he could meet up with Peter, the Hale that saved him from a Saber-tooth.

Peter was a nuance during his entire rite of passage, but they shared knowledge of the hunt that was invaluable. It made Chris a great hunter amongst his clan.

It irked that he could never share that knowledge with the others. Not when his father was warring with every clan they come across.

“Where are you going?” Gerard asked as Chris prepped his gear.

“Hunting,” Chris said, focusing on the fastening of the spear head.

“I know that boy.” Gerard scoffed, picking up Chris’ hunting knife and snorting after testing the sharpness. “I meant where.”

Gerard waited for an answer and Chris chose to stay quiet. “You always do so well this time of year,” Gerard continued, “when we come back to this area.”

“Is there something you are accusing me of father?” Chris said, turning to stare his father down.

Gerard searched for something and Chris does his best to keep an impassive face. His father doesn’t attempt to intimidate him, and it still made Chris want to shuffle his feet side to side.

“Calm down, my son,” Gerard said, breaking into a smile. “I only consider the possibility of misfortune for the clan, if you were to be killed on one of those hunting trips…. The bounty you bring aids the clan in Winter.

Gerard pats him on the shoulder before steering him out the tent. “Where would we be then?”

Chris gave a simple nod.

“Well then, good hunting my son.”

Chris quickly left, not wanting to be late nor dwell on the number of times Gerard called him son.  
  


 

“Took you long enough,” Peter said, swiping the long grass he’d been shredding at him. Peter had grown since he last saw him, now almost equal in height and hair down to his shoulder. His muscle were more defined—though he was always unusually strong.

“Spot anything interesting on the way?” Chris asked, wiping the bits of grass from his breechcloth.

“Sure, avoid my question. I was just enjoying the blue sky, the lovely scent of…grass.” Peter scrunched his nose in distaste.

Chris huffed. Dramatic as ever. “Enjoy one last whiff,” Chris said, grabbing a stalk and whipping it at Peter’s arm. “Let’s hunt.”

Peter stuck his tongue out and Chris rolled his eyes, hiding his smile as he turned away.

“I saw a herd of buffalo back west.”

“We’re going to take on a herd of buffalo?”

“Don’t be stupid.” Peter smiled. “You’re going to take them on and I’ll pick off the straggler.”

“So I’m bait.”

“Buffalo don’t eat meat. Think of yourself as a predator. Maybe a happy, prancing wolf.”

Chris couldn’t imagine those huge beast performing such a jovial action. “You’ve seen any of these prancing wolves.”

“It’ll be something new, the herd won’t know what to make of you. Give it something to get excited about,” Peter paused, grimacing from a thought, turning to hide his blush at the last second.

“Something you wanna tell me?” He had never seen Peter blush.

“Just my family being a pain.”

Chris hummed in thought. “Is it a girl?”

“Shut up,” Peter said, pushing Chris.

Chris laughed at Peter, glad to see him flustered for once. They never talked about women before. He never wanted to, with the way Gerard had grumbled about it here or there. A bargaining tool for whatever machinations he had.

Chris had hated the talks.

He knew that Peter’s sister was the Chief, and wondered if a marriage would ever be arranged for Peter or if Peter ever pursued.

His friend never spoke about it.

Peter gave a low tone whistle—something Chris taught him—and rushed off to take flank. Chris can see the herd and began to form a plan in his head.

He needed to get them to run alongside where Peter was. From there they can pick out the weaker of the herd.

Another whistle. Peter was in position. Chris took aim and threw his spear. It landed by the hoof of a Buffalo, starting a chain reaction as the herd began to run scared. Chris ran out, grabbing the spear and continuing the chase, manoeuvring to keep them in line. There was one staggering, possibly an injury to the leg.

Chris needed to hit the animal with the spear, essentially marking it for Peter. Then they can work together to take it down.

The buffalo cried out in pain as the spear hit it’s shoulder.

“Chris!”

He instinctively rolled, narrowly missing the charge of another buffalo. He also saw Peter fall in the midst of the stampede. The buffalo that charge him rejoined the herd that moved away, the thumping of the hooves becoming distant.

“Peter!” Chris ran to the curled up body on the ground, and was elated as Peter turned to look at him.

“That was exciting,” Peter said, picking at the small bits of grass stuck to him.

Chris couldn’t see a scratch. Peter always seemed to luck out on injuries. One time he was sure Peter had broken his leg, but he was running around their very next hunt.

“You okay?” Peter asked.

“I didn’t fall amongst a herd of raging Buffalo.”

“Raging? I would say they were prancing.”

Chris couldn’t help but laugh at the audacity. He clapped Peter on the back and let his hand rest on Peter’s neck. Peter leaned back into the pressure of Chris’s hand, making his stomach flutter. Peter kept his face turned away, but he was sure Peter wanted to lean in closer. Chris wanted the same.

“That buffalo you hit shouldn’t be too far off,” Peter said, after a moment.

“Let’s go then.” Chris lightly squeezed the back of Peter’s neck before releasing.  
  


 

They follow the same pattern season after season when Chris returned to Beacon Hill.

 

  
Chris knew something was off upon his arrival back to his camp. The only people present were young children and their caretakers, and most of their weaponry were gone.

“Ye-al, where is everyone.” Nothings wrong, he repeated to himself.

“Your father was leading the clan to protect us from more heathens.”

Chris nodded, tempering his steps towards the council tent. He couldn’t jump to conclusions until he had a reason to worry.

He ducked into the opening, instantly drawn to the etchings in the dirt. Gerard had marked points of attack surrounding an image that was crude, but Chris recognized Peter’s clan markings.

Chris ran, abandoning the catch he made that day with Peter. He didn’t care what his clansmen saw. He should have seen this coming. This wasn’t Gerard’s first crusade to eradicate other ‘competing’ clans.

It began after a particularly harsh winter. There wasn't enough food to keep their bellies satiated and fur to keep everyone warm. His father blamed another clan they had close connections with and they decapitated their allies’ head.

Peter may be okay. The Hale clan was larger than the Argents, and the frontal attack would have been ill-advised.

It felt like his lungs were going to burst. Chris realize he should have brought a weapon, something to fight with to protect Peter. He ignored doubts about his skills, the pain in his legs as he began to tire, or the worry of predators that came out at night.

He had never seen Peter’s home and he hoped that he was heading in the right direction, basing it on the directions Peter walked when they parted ways.

He smelled smoke and he wanted to shout when he came over a hill to see huts burning. Homes were burning and there wasn’t any screaming. Was Peter in one of those huts?

“Chris,” Gerard said with a manic smile, “ I'm glad you can join us.”

Chris was hit on the back of his head. He instantly fell from the pain, giving his clansmen a chance to secure him with a knife to his throat.  
  
Gerard’s and his clans betrayal stung—a foolish notion because he never expected much kinship from his father.

“Tell me son, what do you think?” Gerard gestured to the destruction.

Chris kept silent. What did Gerard want to hear?

“I knew you weren’t hunting alone. I thought another clan was taking advantage of your generosity. You were always foolish and too trusting. But it was worse than that.” Gerard paused, waiting for any input from Chris. “What your sister told me….I’m ashamed as a father. I clearly did not raise you right. Being taken a fool is one thing, but the way Katherine described it.”

Gerard trailed off with clear distaste.

Chris laughed. “Say it Gerard. Make up an excuse. You’re good at that.”

The smack across the face almost tipped him over, the knife at his throat gave a shallow cut. He doesn’t need to look up to see his Gerard’s expression. They had only arrived here recently, meaning that Gerard’s plan to burn down the Hale clan had been in the works for some time.

Annoyance consumed him. Why not fear? The Hale clan was burning behind Gerard, casting a red-orange of blood and fire over his face. Everything was silent except the roar of flames. Death meant silence.

Peter was dead.

Chris remembered a moment, years after his father took over the clan, where he contemplated slitting Gerard’s throat.

He should have done it then.

Chris tackled low, knocking Gerard off his feet. He grabbed the knife at his father’s hip and swung wide around him as his clansmen attempted to intercede. They backed away and Chris went in for the kill.

Here was his chance. Gerard was still on the ground, attempting to back away. Chris lunged and felt a sharp pain in his side.

A thwap landed behind him. He’d been sliced with a spear. His sister, Katherine, stood a few feet away, determined to protect Gerard but not moving in to attack Chris.

He made a run for it.

He lost his chance.

He couldn’t bear to look back at the ruin of the Hale clan.

 

  
Chris found a cave and attempted to gather fallen foliage as a blanket. He couldn’t create a fire without attracting attention.

The cut in his side was still bleeding, but he didn’t have anything to stop it. The blood trailed over his breechcloth. Chris didn’t know if he wanted to keep his attire when it so closely tied with the Argent clan. It was going to be odd sleeping exposed, yet it was already covered in blood. There was no point to preserve it.

He layered leaves over the wound before tightening his breechcloth around to secure the pressure. He didn’t know if it’d help.

In a matter of seconds, as Chris laid on the ground covering himself with folliage, he dropped dead from exhaustion.  
  


 

Something wet and rough was dripping on his wound. Dripping? No. It was lapping.

Chris struggled to open his eyes. Something wet snuffled his cheek and whined. There was a wolf staring at him. It licked his cheek before going back to lick his wound.

It should worry him that the animal was getting a taste for his blood. Chris tried to get up and could even move his arm, too groggy for anything beyond blinking. He went back to sleep.

 

 

Chris was alone when he woke up. The sunlight was reaching out to him in the cave, so it would have been late in the day. He was completely exposed, what he used to cover himself was scattered everywhere, even his breechcloth was thrown to the side.

The wolf wasn’t around. There were paw prints on the ground so he didn’t imagine the animal. Chris looked at his wound, the line of dried blood giving the illusion that it sealed his wound.

It still hurt.

There was the scuffing of dirt outside, something heavy being dragged. Chris cautiously walked out and was shocked as a wolf attempted to drag a dead deer to the cave.

There were bad burns on one side of its face that extended down to its flank. It took a break from dragging the kill, panting in pain as it laid on the ground. The wolf noticed Chris, ears perking up and its tail thumping against the ground.

Chris slowly walked towards it, certain that it wouldn’t attack if it didn’t eat him last night. Still. He put out his hand, getting it licked in return.

“Those look like they hurt.” Chris reached out to assess the burns. The wolf growled. He pulled his hands up and away. “Sorry.”

The wolf whined, turning its burns more to Chris. He took it as permission and checked the injury. They needed to find a source of water to get clean.

Chris also needed new hide to wear. Chris inspected the carcass. His only option was the deer.  
  
The wolf got up. It’s head came up to his chest. Chris made sure to back away as it began to tear into the carcass, waiting his turn.

So it was to Chris’ surprise when the wolf dropped the liver beside him. It went back to it’s meal, proceeding to eat the heart. The wolf should have taken its fill before allowing Chris his turn at the meal. He needed to cook the liver, but he was cautious in case the animal changed its mind.

 

 

Chris didn’t know what to make of his companion. The wolf was unusual. At times, Chris would look into its eyes and see a vast depth of knowledge that shouldn’t exist. Sometimes the wolf reminded him of Peter, whose remains he couldn’t find at the Hale settlement.

Everyday Chris washed the wolf’s wounds in a river, while the wolf busied licking at his. Chris was sure the wound was healing faster than they should. It could only be the wolf.

Chris wished he knew about healing plants so he could return the favour. He sat down in the water, cupping water to pour over the burns, and hoped it was soothing. The wolf placed it’s head on his shoulder, eyes closed and nuzzling his neck. It rumbled in contentment.

“You remind me of someone,” Chris said. “I knew him for a long time. But we only ever got to see each other during summers.”

“I need to go back and see if I can find his body.” Chris didn’t know the Hale’s ritual, but Gerard would have done nothing.

The wolf whined, leaning into Chris and toppling them both into the water. Chris coughed as he came back above water the wolf still attempting to smother him.

“Hey there,” Chris said, uncomfortably petting atop his head as it continued to push until they hit the bank, and proceeded to lay on top of him. “It’s okay.”

The wolf grumbled in disbelief and Chris wasn’t going to correct him.

 

 

As the burns became scars, Chris wondered about the wolf. The scars could have looked a lot worse, based on what he’d seen when someone fell into a fire pit.

“Peter,” Chris admonished, as a snout pressed up between his legs. He quickly grabbed his loincloth in case Peter tried to tug it off again. It seemed the wolf was laughing every time it had a successful attempt.

He fashioned it after the Hale clan and he didn’t want it ruined. Chris thwacked Peter on the snout with a grass stalk he was holding. The wolf chewed the grass out of vindictiveness. Chris laughed, patting his friend before continuing to walk.

It had been many summers since his father burnt down the Hale clan. Chris moved around to different caves, confident that Gerard would be searching for him. It wasn’t possible that Gerard would let his escape be.

“What’s for dinner?” Chris asked, getting a big yawn from Peter.

He liked talking to the wolf. The animal was also too intelligent, almost human-like. It was mischievous, cunning, and seemed to be attached to him from the very beginning. It sometimes hurt to have this reminder of Peter.

He needed to give Peter another bath. The blood from their last hunt still hadn’t washed off. Peter must have rolled around in it for some reason. It got tiring, but Chris considered that he should be thankful that the wolf didn’t consider him an easy dinner.

“We need to get you washed up,” Chris said. Peter’s tongue lolled out of his mouth, tail wagging. “After getting dinner.”

Peter looked Chris straight in the eye and proceeded to roll around in the dirt.

Chris huffed. “Of course, you were doing it on purpose.”

Peter kicked dirt in Chris’s direction.

He rolled his eyes. “Come on.” There should be a lake nearby to fish and get clean.

Chris wasn’t surprised to have Peter rubbing against him, effectively smearing dirt onto him. He pushed the wolf off, “stop.”

Instead, Peter came at him from the other side.

 

 

They come across something better than fish. A few buffalo are drinking from the lake, and downing one means lots of meat and other provisions. The one drawback was that he didn’t know how to coordinate an attack with a wolf.

Peter sat by him, pawing at the ground and periodically looking at him.

“You wouldn’t happen to want to go at it,” Chris said, pointing at the buffalo.

Peter yawned.

“Of course.” He could try to drive one of the buffalo into the water, but there was too wide a berth for the animals to go around him, if it didn’t startle into deeper water.

Chris set to work making a rudimentary spear, in case the plan went awry. Peter watched with disinterest until Chris made his attempt and spectacularly failed.

The buffalo scattered in all directions except into the water. Chris couldn’t use the spear without getting trampled.

Chris was sure Peter was laughing at him.

“You have a better idea?”

Peter turned around all high and mighty and….

He wanted to fall to his knees as the wolf pranced.

How?

It was wishful thinking.

Chris didn’t know what to think. “Peter?” He felt dumb for asking.

The wolf nodded.

Chris’ knees hit the bank of the lake, sinking into the wet soil. “Give me a sign. I need proof.”

The wolf turned to the side as bones popped and limbs changed. The fur receded to bare human skin and the snout receded to a familiar face. Chris couldn’t see the scars the way Peter was turned away.

Chris rushed him needing to feel that Peter was real. Apparently, he was also a wolf.

“How does that work?” Chris felt the scars on Peter face that matched a wolf that had been by his side since everything began. He touched his forehead to Peter. “I wouldn’t have cared.”

Peter eyes squeezed shut as he tried to hide his scar once more.

He forced Peter to face him so he could kiss him.

They held onto each other in ways they had always wanted to.

 

 

A low toned whistle echoed out.

Gerard and his hunting party were after him.

Chris could hear Peter slinking around the bushes in his wolf form.

They were on the hunt too.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Couldn't figure out a way to change names and language to not feel so modern. Also the animals are suppose to be from the Pleistocene (based on extremely rudimentary research) but I found it odd for Chris to refer to animals as the names we'd call them. Example: Dire wolf versus wolf.


End file.
